Common Misconceptions
by 142staircases
Summary: A series of one shots about the one everyone in the realm of fanfiction ignores.
1. Common Misconceptions

**AN:** So....This is going to be a series of one shots about Peter Pettigrew. Because, let's face it folks, he had friends until he decided to switch over to the dark side.

**Disclaimer**: Nope. We wish. But alas, no.

Common Misconceptions

It was Peter that held them together. He was the vital element, the yeast, without which the dough would not rise. It was Peter.

He was the one who was positive. He always saw the bright side of things. He always said that another day, they would succeed in locking Filch out of his office for good. Or next time, their plot to transfigure the Slytherin quidditch captain into a dinosaur would surely work. Or if you looked at it like this, well, you could maybe see it as a success, when Lily gave James the evil eye after he tried to impress her.

He was the go between. When James and Sirius fought (which was rare, but not out of the question), the consequences were titanic. Both were furious, both were too stubborn to apologize. It was Peter who wheedled them both to the halfway mark, so that they might grudgingly agree, and then happily forget. When Sirius told Snape about where Remus went at the full moon, it was Peter, more than anyone, who talked Remus out of his rage (although his punching Sirius in the jaw helped quite a lot as well).

It was Peter. Sirius scorned him, because his marks were not the best, and he was a little slow at times, not to mention that he had the capacity to be an outrageous toady. James teased him because he didn't understand quidditch and screamed like a girl sometimes. Remus got frustrated with him more easily than the other two, because he found Peter a bit of a sop, a bit clingy (although he would never have said that. He would rather just retaliate for a moment, so that he would feel clean, and ready to deal with Peter some more); however he knew that he himself was not that much higher than Peter in the social rung that was their group of friends, and so he would not ever openly speak ill of the boy.

Peter held them together.

Peter broke them apart.


	2. Honey Dukes

"Look, I don't see why we have to do this tonight. They haven't even played yet."

"Moony, you know as well as I that they are going to win tomorrow, and by getting this out of the way now, we will have more time to set up while everyone dances joyously around James and his quidditch-minions. This is his _last quidditch cup_. It has to be special."

"All right. Fine. But why now? Why five o'clock in the evening when we will undoubtedly be recognized as Hogwarts students who have come into town at a time that is not designated for students. Not to mention that the proprietors of Honeydukes will undoubtedly notice when we pop up behind their counter."

"Moony, they won't see us. I snitched Prongs' invisibility cloak. They will be none the wiser until we can appear before them in an acceptable fashion. And as to why now, Prongs is on a date and he won't notice we are gone."

"I would hardly call a head students meeting a date, Sirius."

"You wouldn't? They always come back from them looking so lovey-dovey I could just vomit. I am sure that James feels her up under the desk. Shhh. I'm going to check to make sure that no one is up there." There was a pause. "Come on."

The three of them climbed up into the cellar of Honeydukes. Quick as a flash, Sirius threw James' invisibility cloak under all of them.

"Bend your knees, Sirius, you are too tall."

"Budge over, Wormtail, you don't need that much of the cloak. You're short."

"Shh."

They heard voices upstairs. Then, the manager came down.

"Anything down there, Oswald?" came a voice, that sounded horrifyingly familiar.

"No. I must have misheard, Professor."

"While you are down there, would you mind fetching me up some Lemon Drops? I've run out." It was Dumbledore.

"Not at all Professor," said Oswald genially. He began shifting crates.

Sirius gestured wildly towards the staircase, obviously wanting to head upstairs. Remus mouthed _are you mental?_ at him, and made to turn back. They both turned to Peter. He was the deciding vote. Peter took a step towards Sirius, mouthing at Remus _we are here, aren't we?_

As quickly and as quietly as they could, they climbed the stairs and slid into the store. There was Dumbledore, leaning over the counter, looking right through them. He was the only one in the shop and he looked pensive. He was not smiling, and his eyes were not twinkling. He did not move as they skirted him and made towards the door. They would wait beside it for him to leave, then follow him out, wait until he was safely out of sight and take the cloak off.

"Here we are, Professor, that will be 15 knuts a tin" said Oswald.

"Thank you. It is good of you to go down and look," Professor Dumbledore said. He picked up several tins and placed them in his robes. He then took out a coin purse and paid Oswald. "Goodnight, Oswald. Give my regards to Genevieve."

"I will, Professor," said Oswald, smiling.

Dumbledore moved towards the door, opened it, and moved through it. The boys, invisible, followed him. He moved up the high street and turned a corner, and was gone.

"He's not going straight to school," whispered Remus.

"No, he's not," Sirius was calculating, "He looks like he's going to the Hog's Head. Listen, maybe we should split up. Remus, you go to the Three Broomsticks and pick up butterbeer and, if Rosmerta'll sell a bottle, firewhisky. We obviously can't go to the Hog's Head because we would run into Dumbledore there, so…Don't look at me like that. It's for the seventeens and older. Not for firsties or anything. We'll make sure of that." Remus was looking almost as severe as Lily or Professor McGonagall.

"You'd better be sure," he said darkly, slipping out of the cloak. "Of course I am the one buying alcohol while our dear headmaster is wandering the town," he added, grumbling.

"Come on, Remus. It'll be Ok. He won't go into the Three Broomsticks. And we drank before we were seventeen."

"Yes, but we got it on our own. I refuse to give underage kids—"

"All right. All right. I get it. Anyway, I'll go to Dervish and Banges, and Pete, you go back into Honeydukes and pick out the appropriate sweets. We'll meet in Honeydukes in twenty minutes, all right?"

"Should we have a signal, in case Dumbledore runs into one of us?" asked Peter.

"Nah. We don't want to give the others away. I don't think he'll find us. He looked so concentrated in there that I doubt he would notice if Voldemort were dancing a jig, naked, in front of him."

The boys went their separate ways. Peter stepped back into the empty candy store.

"Hullo, Oz," he called.

"Hello there Peter. You shouldn't be in town tonight, should you?" asked Oswald, coming through a door in the back of the shop. He looked worn.

"Preparing for the quidditch game tomorrow."

"Isn't that a bit presumptuous? What if Ravenclaw wins?"

"They'd have to win by a margin of four hundred points," Peter said, remembering what Sirius had told him when he had used that very argument against going before the game.

"I suppose with James as a Chaser, it isn't likely that that will happen, is it?"

"Not too, no…" grinned Peter.

"He really is talented. Could play for England. Although he can be a bit…"

"Violent?"

"I was going to say aggressive. But the damage he does during a game is nothing a skilled healer can't take care of."

"And it's not like he means it. He just gets a bit…"

"Caught up. I know. And he most certainly isn't the first chaser to break a girl's nose with the quaffle, that's for sure. Happens all the time."

"She flew into it."

"True…So. What'll it be? Obviously Chocolate Frogs, Every Flavor Beans, Drewble's Best, Sugar Quills, Pumpkin Fudge, Toffees and the like. I know what Sirius always wants. Anything new?" Oswald was already moving around the store.

"I'll get back to you on that," smiled Peter happily.

He began to wander while Oswald began filling bags with the correct proportions of the aforementioned candies. He loved this store. There was nothing like it in the world. His mum never let him eat candy at home. He had no idea why, although he always suspected it was because she didn't want him to get as fat as his dad. But away from her prying eyes, away from her high-pitched, nasal cajoling, standing in the middle of the king of all candy shops, he felt happy.

He remembered first coming here in his second year. He didn't know how on earth James and Sirius had discovered this passage, but they had. They had returned to the common room, bright-eyed and laden with sweets, which they had eaten all night in their dormitory, to full of sugar to fall asleep. (The next day had been hellish.) When he and Remus had joined them the next time they had visited, he had hardly been able to move because he didn't know where to start. By the time he did, the others were almost ready to go, so he only got a box of chocolates—which had been the best he had ever eaten.

His eyes fell on the Honey Dukes. They were a Honeydukes specialty: solidified honey balls, and in no way gooey. James adored them. He always bought them. Sirius hated them and so never bought them for quidditch parties, though.

"Hey Oz," called Peter.

"Yes, Peter?"

"Can we get some Honey Dukes as well?"

"Of course."

The door opened, and Peter whirled around. Remus entered. He had nothing in his hands and was moving quite slowly.

"Did you not get any?" asked Peter, quietly.

"I shrunk it. It's in here," he whispered, motioning towards his pocket.

"Do you want me to take any?"

"Yes please. It's quite heavy." Remus began moving some of the tiny bottles into Peter's pockets.

"And did you get any…"

"I got two bottles. That should be enough."

"Sirius won't think so."

"Sirius is an alcoholic. Or at least well on his way to becoming one."

"True."

The door opened again. "Ready?" asked Sirius, jovially. He was laden with bags. "Where's the butterbeer?" he asked Remus.

"In my pockets."

"Good thinking."

"Yeah."

"I should do mine, so we aren't too over laden with the candies."

"Here we go, gents," said Oswald, placing four large bags, filled to the brim with candy, on the counter top. "Seven galleons, nine sickles."

"That's more than usual. Did you get something else, Pete?"

"Yeah. I got more chocolate frogs. We never have enough," Peter lied. He didn't know why he lied, but he did.

"Good thinking." Sirius paid. He and Peter and Remus did what they always did when the shop was empty. They looked around. They always found new things.

When Oswald moved into the back of the shop, they swiftly went down to the cellar and through the trap door.

*

Of course Gryffindor won. By four hundred seventy points. It was the best game that they had ever played. James didn't commit a single foul.

The celebration was more energetic than usual, possibly because the seventeens and older had alcohol. Remus was very careful not to let it fall into the hands of younger students.

Sirius flirted with a fifth-year chaser. Remus was chattering with Mary Macdonald and Alice Hellinsky. James was either kissing Lily or whispering sweet nothings in her ear, with his arm around her shoulder. Peter was talking to Michael O'Shea, his co-head of the Gobstones Club. They were preparing a tournament next week.

He felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned. It was James.

"You got the Honey Dukes?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks."

"Any time."


	3. Falling Books and Velociraptors

5th Year

It was, according to Sirius, a fool-proof plan, which, of course, meant that if Peter screwed it up, he would be mocked most mercilessly.

The plan: someone (Peter) stands guard at the top of the marble staircase in the entrance hall with a large stack of books. The other three would be in that little nook to the right and back of the staircase, waiting for Smitt (the Captain of the Slytherin quidditch team). When Smitt appeared, they would turn him into a dinosaur. Should Peter see McGonagall (or any other teacher, but especially McGonagall), he was to drop his books, or shout something like "oh no, my books!" while looking as unsuspicious as possible.

Peter couldn't see what was going on, but he periodically heard a guffaw (usually Sirius') from downstairs. He sighed.

He knew why he had been picked—apart from the fact that it was his turn. He wasn't very good at transfiguration, as proven by his continual failures to become an animagus. Remus was much better at transfiguration, and Sirius and James were naturals, and this was a complicated bit of magic they were trying to perform, given that the velociraptor had been dead for thousands and thousands of years.

He rested his books on the banister, and tried, yet again, to get a clear image in his mind of the rat he was supposed to turn into. His problem was that he came from a nice home. He had a nice dad, a nice—albeit passive aggressive—mum and a nice big sister who was in seventh year here. He had never really seen a rat. He had tried to convince them to let him be a cat. A cat was surely flexible enough to slip under the raging branches of that crazy tree. But they had said no.

"We just want to make sure you don't get hurt, is all," said James, kindly.

"It would not be pleasant to have to convince Snivellus to be our fourth," teased Sirius.

"You'll get it, Pete. Just look at these pictures some more," suggested Remus.

He sighed.

They didn't have to be so patronizing. He knew they were trying to be nice…but it rankled.

He sighed, again.

"Peter, quit sighing. You sound like a girl," hissed James.

Peter rolled his eyes.

"Here they come!" hissed Sirius.

Indeed, a slow stream of Slytherins trickled out of the corridor leading down to their dungeon dormitories.

"Hello, Peter," came a voice behind him.

"Hi Lily. How are you this fine February evening?" he asked.

"I just had a meeting with McGonagall about Career Advice."

"Already? I thought those weren't until March. Or May. Or…later."

"Yeah. I know. But I wanted to talk about it now. I just have no idea what I want to do with my life, and I feel like that's a bad thing. I mean, I don't even know any wizarding careers, except for being a teacher. Your lucky to be pure blood."

"It doesn't make me a better wizard, you know," he said, thinking of his last failed attempts to turn into a rat. He had had no choice but to shave the whiskers off.

"I know. But it means that there are so many things that I just don't know about. I guess that's why I study so hard. Maybe Alice is right. I should take a break. Chill out. I would probably still pass my exams…"

"Yeah. But…" Peter struggled for words, "then you would have no choice but to admit to James that studying is not the answer and I wouldn't envy you that job."

She laughed.

"Does he really like me, or is he just trying to get attention?"

"Probably a little bit of both. He doesn't…he doesn't talk about it much with me, actually. Mostly Sirius."

"Hmm…" she looked like she understood. "What are you doing here, anyway? I mean, not like I'm not glad to have run into you, but shouldn't you be with them?"

Peter was very bad at lying on the spot. He could lie very convincingly if he knew the story before hand, but he had not anticipated this at all. He knew the truth was out of the question—Lily would go crazy.

"Um. I. Um…" He felt very awkward standing there. "I don't know where they are."

Lily looked sympathetic. He wasn't that pathetic, was he? They wouldn't abandon him like that, would they? Why did she just assume it was the truth?

"Well, you can sit with me at dinner, if they don't show up, if you like," she said, beginning to move down the staircase.

"I'll wait a little bit. Thanks, Lily."

"Any time," she reached out to grab his upper arm, "Don't worry about them. They can be prats, you know?"

As she pulled her arm away, she knocked the books resting on the banister, ever so slightly, but enough to send them toppling.

"Oh no, your books!" she yelped.

He groaned internally. They both rushed down the stairs, passing Smitt, who had been saved by the prematurely falling books.

Sirius was standing there, with a slightly livid expression on his face. But Remus and James looked impressed.

"There you are!" said Lily, "It really isn't very nice to leave Peter waiting up there while you have been down here together the whole time."

"We didn't realize he was waiting," lied James, easily.

"Yes, well," Lily sounded dismissive, "I will see you later, _Peter._" And she stalked off.

When she was safely in the Great Hall, the other boys burst into speech.

"We were so close!" growled Sirius.

"What were you doing, talking to Lily?" demanded James.

"How did you know that Slughorn was coming?" asked Remus.

"Slughorn?" asked Peter.

"Yeah, Slughorn. He was coming up through the door, right after your books fell, then he realized he had forgotten his eyeglasses and went back down to the dungeons. How did you know?"

"Peter's got intuition," muttered Sirius.

"Good job," James said after a moment, although Peter thought it sounded bitter.

_He must be annoyed that I was talking with Lily, and that she stood up for me_, thought Peter, _especially at his expense._

Peter didn't know what to say.

James and Sirius moved quickly off to dinner. Remus bent down and helped Peter pick up his books.

"Ignore them. Their bad moods never last very long," he suggested.

"Yeah."

"And we were all really impressed—I still am—until Lily showed up."

"Yeah. Well, she was the one who knocked over my books," said Peter, quietly.

"Ah."

"Maybe she should work on becoming an animagus. She'd probably get it really quickly." He didn't have the heart to add _and James would like her more._

"Yeah, but she wouldn't stand watch while we turned Smitt into a velociraptor. She would rat us out to McGonagall."

"We _will_ get him next time," said Peter.

"Oh yeah. He has it coming," grinned Remus.


	4. I Told You So

**AN:** Sorry for the insanely long time between chapters. Cece was absorbed in "The Other Side" (which if you haven't read *hint hint* you should strongly consider beginning *nudge nudge*). This is the second-to-last (forseeable) chapter in this. More about that in the next chap's AN.

7th Year

"Don't get involved," muttered Remus. "They are big boys now. They are perfectly capable of sorting this out on their own. They don't need us interfering, and frankly, it hasn't got anything to do with us." Remus looked back down at his notes.

But it was either listen to Remus and ignore the fight between Sirius and James, or sit here and study for his Transfiguration Exam.

Peter couldn't tell which one he would rather do less.

"_Look. I'm not asking him to cut off his right hand or anything. I am just asking him to stop venting all his frustration out on Lily. It's not like it's her fault the map got confiscated. We're lucky that's all that happened to it. At least we can nick it again. But he's acting as though the world has ended and Voldemort has declared that he must marry Brunhilda Smetwyck. It's not the end of the bloody world. Besides, we are leaving school in a month. It's not like we really need it anymore…" _

"_I'm not angry at Prongs. I'm not angry at Lily. Stop looking at me like that, Wormy. I just wanted one last hurrah. It's not a big deal."_

Remus was wrong.

They were most certainly not capable of sorting this out on their own. Because no matter how hard they tried to convince the world otherwise, he knew that they were just little boys in many ways. It was strange how those two were infamous, worshipped even, and yet they had the combined maturity of a four-year-old at times.

"I'll see you later, Remus," he said, sliding his notepad into his bag and stood up.

"When this fails dismally, I promise not to say _I Told You So_," called Remus.

"Thanks for that," replied Peter over his shoulder.

Perhaps the act of the confiscation itself was not a big deal, the way that both boys were claiming. But its effects were catastrophic.

James and Sirius had not spoken to each other in a week. Ironically, each was passing the time they would normally be spending in one another's company exactly the same way: James locked himself and Lily in their dormitory and locked Peter, Remus and Sirius out of it; Sirius disappeared for hours with Leslie Graham.

There were times when he wondered if he should feel bitter about the pair of them. Honestly, it had been _his_ idea to make the map in the first place.

"_Something to keep track of where people are. That way, I won't always have to keep watch. I can help you."_

"_We don't need your help, Pete. We've got it. You keeping watch is handy and you are quite good at it."_

"_It's not that bad an idea, actually. Could be handy for thievery and the likes."_

But he wasn't the one who was pissed at them, even though he had spent hours checking and double checking the floor-plans to make sure they were perfect, even though it had been his idea that they say _Mischief Managed_ to wipe it blank, even though it had been his idea that they find a way to wipe it blank so that no one else could read it in the first place. He was not angry at all, actually. He had always felt that the Map would, someday, fall into Filch's hands and that they were very lucky James had managed to wipe it blank before handing it over. Otherwise, their pranking days would be prematurely over.

"Hullo, Peter." He started and looked around.

"Hi Lily."

"Shouldn't you be studying?"

"Shouldn't _you_ be studying?"

She laughed. "I'm on duty."

"Where's James, then?"

"Detention." She rolled her eyes.

"Why?" demanded Peter. He had a shrewd suspicion that he would have heard if James had gotten another detention. He and Sirius kept a running tally on the wall across from their beds. So far, it was James 795, Sirius 941. Sirius was annoyed he probably wouldn't get a thousand by the time he finished. James said loudly every time that Sirius bragged that he had had to make some sacrifices when he became Head Boy. He didn't have as much time to do the _important_ stuff.

"For the whole…map thing…" said Lily, looking sheepish. "He couldn't make his detention because he had another detention for something he refused to tell me about." she looked at him pointedly as though hoping that Peter would tell her the misdeed that had induced the punishment.

"_Come on, Snivelly, fight _back_!"_

"_Yeah, Snape. The _Dark Lord_ won't want you if you can't even fight off us. What a worthless servant you'd be."_

"_Potter! Black! What on _Earth_ are you doing? Stop that at once!"_

Peter did not say a word.

"In any case, he's doing lines for McGonagall."

"That must be almost a disappointment to him. He's used to so much worse," sighed Peter. Lily laughed again. "You're in a good mood."

"Yeah. Well, it's almost summer."

"I don't see how that's a good thing. We'll be out of here for good when we are done."

"Yeah…but it's time, I guess. Besides, aren't you ready for real life? I am."

"No." Peter was not ready for real life. He wanted one more year of school. He didn't feel as though he had learned a damn thing here. Honestly, he had no idea how to cook, or clean, or heal himself in any way, and he had no confidence in his ability to teach himself any of those skills.

Lily looked at him more closely. "Are you Ok?"

"I wish your boyfriend would grow up a bit," Peter said before he could stop himself.

To his surprise, Lily laughed again. "What would be the fun in that?"

"Then maybe he'd stop being a stupid, bloody wanker who has to go and ruin our last month here because him and the other stupid, bloody wanker can't talk like big boys."

"Ahhhh. You are asking him and Sirius to talk about their _feelings_. There's a lost cause if ever I saw one. Look, they don't talk. They just know one another. It is one of the misfortunes in how their friendship developed. One day in about a week, one of them will sidle up to the other and suggest turning Mackinroy's hair blue one last time and they will be off together, just as before."

"Well, they are still bloody annoying," Peter grumbled.

"To the rest of us, intensely so. To one another…they just get one another on a fundamental level. Sometimes they pretend not to—like right now, for example—and other times they disguise it, but it's there and it always will be. They will probably be old geezers together hooting toothlessly on a front porch as they prank the kids who dare to go on their lawn."

Peter laughed. "Probably."

"Shall we head upstairs?"

"Aren't you on duty?"

"The funny thing about patrol is that no one can actually tell if you are doing it or not. They just know you are when they see you, but if they don't see you, they assume you still are."

"This is what James told you when he was convincing you to use the map instead of patrolling, wasn't it."

"Yes. And for once in his unbearably immature existence, he wasn't completely wrong. Besides, everyone is in full study mode for exams. I doubt there will be tons of trouble."

"_So, I need the map again tonight."_

"_I thought you were being a prissy goody-two-shoes tonight."_

"_I am. Which means I need the map so that we can keep an eye on it while we hang out in that niche in the stairway up to the Divination room."_

"_What is this? Is our Head Boy shirking his duties to get a little somethin' somethin' on the side? For shame, James Potter! For shame!"_

"_Shut it. It's about the only time we have to do it, and frankly, I'll take whatever I can get. So give me the map."_

"_McGonagall won't like it if she catches you."_

"_She isn't going to catch me."_

"Those are famous last words," said Peter.

"They are, but I am willing to tempt fate. It's the only fun thing left in life when you have to leave school."

"You said it."

"I think you are wrong."

"What about?"

"I think they need a push in the right direction. This is the worst fight I've ever seen between them."

"Well, you stand at the top of a staircase with Sirius, and I'll stand at the bottom with James, and when we count to three, we push. Sound good?"

"Very funny, that."

"Well, what do you suggest?"

"I…I dunno."

"So, let's leave it, shall we. They'll be fine. They are big boys now." Peter rolled his eyes. "All right, fine. They are physically big and emotionally about two. Happy?"

"Yes."

They reached the Fat Lady.

"Happy New Year," said Lily. The Fat Lady rolled her eyes.

"_Look, It's the perfect password."_

"_New Years was almost two months ago, James."_

"_Exactly. So no one will know that that's what it is. Who would think that, in February, Gryffindor Tower might change its password to _Happy New Year_. It works brilliantly."_

"I do hope you will change it soon," said the Fat Lady.

"I doubt it. James is rather attached," sighed Lily.

The Fat Lady shrugged and swung forward. The two seventh years climbed through.

Lily pointed to a corner of the common room.

Sirius and James were bent over a scrap of parchment. They looked deep in concentration. Remus was thoroughly ignoring them.

"See? They've gotten back together," said Lily sarcastically. She went over to sit with Mary Macdonald and Alice Longbottom.

"What the hell are you two doing?" demanded Peter.

"Do you think we could make another map?" asked James.

"In a month? With exams coming? You must be mental," snapped Peter. He sat down next to Remus and picked up a Transfiguration textbook.

"What's his problem?" demanded Sirius.

"No idea," replied James.

Peter looked over at Remus. Remus was watching him. He rolled his eyes in a way that clearly said _I Told You So_.

"You promised," grumbled Peter.

"I didn't say anything, did I?"

"Oh shut up and quiz me, will you?"


	5. The Simplest Things

**AN:** Well folks, this is it. Thanks for getting this far. Should I spontaneously write more, which could happen, but don't count on it, I'll add in chapters directly before this one. I want this one to stay the last one.

It was always the simplest thing that was his downfall.

When he was struggling to be an animagus, it was the length of the whiskers.

When he was asking out Suzy Sullivan, it was remembering the color of her eyes.

When it was sneaking down to the kitchens, it was that trick step that locked your leg if you landed on it.

And now…

"_Be careful not to be seen, Peter. That's the most important thing," whispered Fenwick. "If they catch you, goodness knows what they will do to you."_

Indeed. All he had had to do was stay a rat. That was all that he had ever had to do. They wouldn't have noticed him and he could have sat quietly in a corner, waiting for them to say something vitally important—something he could bring back to headquarters.

But that was too easy.

And of course, it was always the simplest thing that was his downfall.

"So, Pettigrew," hissed the man sitting opposite him, the man with the snakelike face and the glistening eyes, "What brings you here, of all places? Surely you were not trying to spy on Lord Voldemort?"

The Death Eaters were laughing.

He could identify laughs. He remembered some of them from jeers at school. There was Travers. There was Rosier. There was Snape.

"Look at this quivering little man! Hardly more than a boy! And yet he has the gumption to face me, to bring my secrets back to the Order of the Phoenix, to Dumbledore, to Mudbloods, to my enemies. Look at me, Pettigrew." He did not want to look. He did not want to look into those eyes.

He had never been more scared in his life.

He was more scared than when he had first seen Remus in wolf form.

He was more scared than when James had really lost his temper and nearly set the room on fire.

He was more scared than when Sirius had laughed and threatened to tell Suzy the most embarrassing of his secrets.

He was more scared than when his father looked at him for the last time and said "It's you, now. You have to look after them."

But somehow, involuntarily, his eyes were dragged up and locked onto the ones that were probing into him from the seat by the fireplace.

"Bellatrix," said Voldemort lazily, "what should we do with this?"

A hooded figure stepped forward and a woman's voice came from beneath a mask. "My lord, he is hardly a threat, I think. But he has still crossed us. We should kill him."

Murmurs of assent filled the chamber and Peter broke into a cold sweat.

"Yes, I rather thought of that."

"My lord," came a voice that Peter wished he didn't recognize. "I wonder if it might be better if we did not kill him. I wonder if we mightn't use him."

"What do you mean Severus? Send him back as a spy? A puppet to bring us the words of Albus Dumbledore?"

"Yes, my lord. I think he could prove useful."

"But he is nothing," spat Bellatrix. "He cannot even lie to us. Look at him. He is terrified. There is no way that he could spy effectively."

"We could place him under the imperius curse," suggested a man with a thick eastern-European accent.

"That wouldn't work," said Snape. "His _friends_ would see through it immediately. Even if we told Pettigrew to act normally, I am sure that the werewolf Lupin would figure out, if Potter or Black failed to stop their incessant preening to notice his…unfortunate situation."

"_What's wrong with Peter today?" asked Sirius._

"_His dad died. Hung himself in the bathroom," said Remus shortly and quietly, as if hoping that Peter wouldn't hear. Peter heard. He also heard the quick intake of breath, the gasp of pity that entered Sirius' lungs._

"No," Snape continued, "I think that, if he should choose to help us, he will be a most effective spy. He was always the best at lying during his school years."

"You are quite the expert, Severus," said Lord Voldemort.

"No. Not an expert. There is little to be an expert about," sneered Snape.

The Death Eaters were laughing again. They were nervous, although Peter couldn't tell that. Blood was pounding in his ears, almost loudly enough to drown out the quiet hiss from the man in the chair.

"Quiet, my friends. Quiet. Well, Pettigrew? What shall it be? I think it is time to pick your poison. Death now, among your enemies, your body turned into an inferi? The Imperius Curse? If you are discovered we shall kill you. Or a willing spy, a servant of the Dark Lord, branded with the Dark Mark, who would die before betraying his master. What shall it be?

It was always the simplest thing that was his downfall.

"_No. It should be Peter. They won't think it's him. They'll go straight for me. I mean honestly, who doesn't know I'm your best friend, James. Peter's safe. And he's trustworthy. You'll live until your two-hundred if it's him."_

Maybe he could have protected them, but he was not a skilled occlumens and learning that art would have probably betrayed him—as he was betraying them.

"_Come on, Pete. You'll be an excellent secret keeper! When have you ever let us down? You're my friend, and I trust you with my life. I trust you with Lily's life. I trust you with Harry's life. Now, will you accept?"_

"No, you couldn't lie to Lord Voldemort, Pettigrew. So what shall it be? We are waiting."

"_What's wrong, Wormy? You are looking pale today. Is everything all right? James! He's hit the cat again! God, I will throttle Sirius if ever I get a-hold of him! Who gives a one-year-old a toy broomstick? Honestly…"_

He wanted to scream. He wanted to run. But there was no escaping and they would only laugh at him. They were already laughing at him. They always had. They had never laughed at the others—just him. He was always their toy, always the rat that the cat played with before eating. Why was he always the weakest one?

"_Yes, Minerva, I miss them terribly. More than you can possibly believe. They died too young. And Peter—he was a hero to have gone after _Black_ that way. To sacrifice his own life. It was perhaps a stupid thing to have done, but I would have done the same if I hadn't been recovering from my transformation that Halloween. It was a particularly bad one that year."_

"Well?"

"_THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED! DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!"_

He hung his head and silently extended his left forearm.


End file.
